


The Surface

by Pey119



Series: STS [4]
Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types, Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan, The Trials of Apollo - Rick Riordan
Genre: Abuse, Alive Bianca di Angelo, Bianca dies, Complete, F/M, Hades dies, Hurt Nico di Angelo, Kid Nico di Angelo, Kid bianca, Nico Dies, Nico Feels, Plague, Prequel, Series, Suicide, maria dies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-16
Updated: 2019-06-16
Packaged: 2020-05-12 18:01:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 3,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19234294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pey119/pseuds/Pey119
Summary: Prequel thing to the STS series. Nico's life before he died and everything leading up to his death. (Child abuse, suicide)





	1. Chapter 1

Nico chewed on his small hand as he looked up at the large house. He was in his mother's arms, letting her carry him as they walked up to the house. His sister was walking next to their father, her small hand gripping onto his large hand.

"Do you like it?" Hades asked, looking to Maria. They still spoke Italian, not having learned English yet.

Maria nodded but looked over her shoulder as if she could look back at their old house in Italy.

"Momma!" Nico put his hand in her face to get her attention. "Momma!'

Maria looked down at him. "Yes, my son?"

He looked into her eyes before letting out a burst of giggles. "Hi!"

She kissed his forehead before looking to her husband. "Shall we go in?"

Hades nodded. "Be careful on the front steps." He helped Maria up before helping Bianca up. "There you go, Bianca. Big steps."

"Big steps." she agreed.

Hades showed them around the house, everything brand new. The walls, the floors, the candle holders. Everything looked perfect. Yet to Nico and Maria, nothing looked like home.

"Do we live here now?" Bianca asked.

Hades nodded. "Yes."

"It's so big!" she declared. "We're rich!"

Nico started to sob, his small face turning red. "Too big! Scared!"

Maria rocked him close. "It's going to be okay. We're all going to look out for you."

Hades put a hand on his wife's shoulder, not seeming to notice his son's crying. "Do you like the house?"

She took a moment to nod. "Yes. It's nice. It just...is very large. And so far away from home."

"This is home, now." he looked down to Bianca. "Let's go put you to bed. I'll read you a story."

Bianca rushed upstairs, her father following far behind. Maria was left alone in the parlor, Nico in her arms. He still was crying his eyes out, his dark eyes sparkling with tears.

"Nico..." she rocked him close. "It's going to be okay. I've got you. It's going to be okay."

He leaned his head against his mother's chest, let himself relax at the sound of her heartbeat. His mother was there. That was all that mattered.


	2. Chapter 2

Nico sat in his room, his head buried underneath the blankets. He was scared, really scared. He could hear Bianca crying, could hear his dad crying, could hear strange men talking in the hall. Nowhere could he hear his mother.

At four years old, Nico was still small for his age but more healthy than he had been. His clothes were made by his mother, his hair and body were always clean. The day the sun didn't look like the sun but more like a silver disc, he cried for the first time in years. He cried his small eyes out because his little heart couldn't quite take the sadness, the sadness of losing a parent.

Four years old, an important age. An age that was supposed to be full of growth and learning and love. For him, it was wrecked with sadness. The day his mother died brought hatred into his father's heart. It introduced the need to blame someone. And for Hades, that blame went to his only son.

"Nico?" Bianca ran into Nico's room and moved under the blankets so that she was cuddled into his side. Her own tears moistened her cheeks and filled her eyes with a sparkling light. "I'm really sad."

"Bianca..." Nico cuddled against his older sister. "I'm scared..."

"It's okay." she wrapped her small arms around him. "It's okay. Daddy said mommy is just sleeping. She's gonna be sleeping for a long time." Their Italian had English mixed into it, but most of their words were their native language. "He said not to be sad."

"I want momma." Nico whimpered. "I want momma. Why she sleep?"

"She got sick," Bianca explained. "Daddy said she got really really sick."

"Is she ever going to wake up?" Nico hiccuped.

"I don't know..." Bianca admitted. "Let's just snuggle, okay? Let's snuggle like momma's here to snuggle with us."

Nico nodded his small head, keeping close to her. He gripped onto her as if she was his mom, as if all that responsibility and emotions fell onto her. With his eyes closed, he could almost believe that he was laying with his mother instead of his sister.

But Bianca was smaller than Maria and her hair smelled different. Maria was always clean. Bianca, however, played outside and explored the large house. She smelled like dirt and dust. She didn't smell like Maria, nor did her touch feel like his mother's. She was different. So different.

He just wanted his momma.

"Bianca." Hades voice broke their small bubble of comfort. "Are you in here?"

The dark haired girl stuck her head out from the top of the blanket but couldn't stop crying. "Daddy... I needed someone to snuggle with."

"Come snuggle with me." he held his hand out to her. "Let's go lay down. We need each other now more than ever." He was crying...when had they ever seen their father cry?

Bianca jumped away from Nico and ran to meet her father, her dress as dirty as her hair. "Daddy...I want momma..."

Hades picked his daughter up, his sad eyes closed. "I know. I want her, too. I know."

"Can Nico come lay with us?" Bianca asked. "Can we all snuggle together?"

"Not Nico." Hades walked from the room, keeping her in his arms. "I don't want Nico there."

"But why not?" she demanded. "He misses mommy, too."

"He was one of the reasons she was sick," Hades explained. "He helped hurt her, Bianca. It's his fault."

As they moved further and further from Nico's room, they were unaware of his sobs, of his heart wrenching cries. They were unaware that at four years old, he tried to think of a way to see his mother again.


	3. Chapter 3

Two years went by. Two years of sorrow. Some days were happy. They were rare, but they did happen. On those days, Hades left for work. Bianca and Nico were alone, alone to play and do whatever they wanted.

The main game they played was marbles. Nico's set was given to him by his mother the day they left for America. She'd teach him to play, she promised. He'd love it. But in the end, it was Bianca that taught him to play. It was Bianca that did everything his mother was supposed to.

"Nico, Nico." Bianca ran upstairs as soon as her father had left. "I call going first!"

Nico, who had been stuck in his room until Hades left, wedged open his door to let his sister in. "Did you bring food?" At six years old, he was too skinny, was too tiny. He shouldn't have been on the diet Hades forced him on.

Bianca set the bread and cheese on the ground beside the marbles. "Hurry up and eat incase he comes back. We didn't have any milk to bring..."

Nico pounced on the food, not worried about the lack of milk. He ate with his hands, made sure to eat every last scrap. Once his fingers were cleaned off and nothing remained of what she had brought, he looked up to fully register that his sister was still there. "Time to play?"

Bianca nodded. "If you want to."

"I do, I want to, I do." Nico began to set up the marbles. "You smell nice."

"Dad got me perfume." Bianca beamed. "He said I'm a big girl, now."

Nico frowned. "You stink."

"You just said I smelled nice."

"I was being nice." Nico looked to her. "The game is ready. Sit down."

Bianca sat across from him, coughing into her sleeve. "Your turn."

"Are you okay?" he eyed her closely. "You...you coughed."

"I'm okay," Bianca promised. "Just sick."

Nico's eyes watered. "Like momma was?"

Bianca shook her head quickly. "Nope. Just a cold. I promise." She took her turn but began to cough again halfway through.

"Bianca!" Nico grabbed her arm. "You're sick! Something's wrong!"

Bianca pushed him away. "I'm fine!"

"You have blood on your lips!" Nico started to sob. "Like momma! Momma had blood on her lips, too!"

Bianca threw a marble across the room. "I'm done playing!"

Nico tried to grab onto her, tried to keep her in his room, but she was too strong for him. She left the room and closed the door behind her, leaving Nico alone. All alone, with no one there.


	4. Chapter 4

It was only a day later when Nico heard the strange men in the house again. He hid in his closet, felt himself shaking in fear. He could hear them talk, hear his father yell, hear them mention Bianca just as they had mentioned his momma. His needed to go to the bathroom, he was hungry, he hadn't slept. Yet he couldn't move out of that closet, couldn't find it in himself to move through the fear.

Fear. So much fear. The feeling that whatever he did, he was going to get hurt. That nothing would ever be okay. That he would never see his sister again.

His sister... He already missed Bianca. He was lonely, so lonely. He wanted his momma and he wanted Bianca. He wanted anyone besides Hades.

Speaking of Hades... His screams filled the house, his anger sent chills down Nico's spine. Anger caused violence, violence caused pain. Nico couldn't take much more pain.

Eventually, the yelling died down. He could hear it outside the house, outside his window. In a burst of movement and courage, Nico got out of the closet and went to look out his window. He could see Hades, could see his large form talking to another man. A doctor, it looked like. Hades still looked mad, his arms crossed and his eyes narrowed.

"Bianca..." Nico pressed his small face against the cold window. "Bianca, where'd you go?"

Two men carried a stretcher out of the house, a stretcher that held a figure covered in a white blanket. Still, Nico could tell that it was his sister immediately. It was the same thing he watched them do to his mother.

"Bianca!" Nico hit the window with his small hands, leaving no injury. "Bianca! Come back! Come back, Bianca!"

He screamed at the top of his lungs, screamed until he couldn't make any more sound. Bianca, Bianca. He just wanted his sister back. Why'd she have to go, too? Why did people keep getting sick?

Nico cried for hours that night. He sobbed and tore apart his room until all the anger fell away. When it did, he was left with nothing more than a soul full of sadness. When he cried the sadness out, he was left with nothing. He gripped onto a pillow, tried to act like it was Bianca. Stared at the ceiling, tried to talk to his momma.

Wherever she was...


	5. Chapter 5

Nico ran through the dusty attic, an old doll of Bianca's in his hands. He played airplanes until he was too tired, then laying on the ground to stare up above him at the wooden beams. They looked strong, strong enough to hang something from. Maybe he could use those for another game...

"Nico!" Hades' voice echoed throughout the house. "Where are you?!"

The other game would have to wait for another day. As Nico hid the doll behind a support column, he felt himself shaking. When was the last time Hades had hit him? Was he going to hit him again? It had hurt so bad last time...

"I'm coming!" Nico climbed down the ladder leading up to the attic before running out of his closet and bedroom. "I was cleaning my room!"

He should have known not to yell in the house.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Seven years old. Nico liked to play with Bianca's doll but it was getting even dirtier than him. He kept trying to sneak it downstairs to wash, but Hades always caught him. It always ended with a beating that left him purple and blue.

Meals were hard to come by, as well as new clothes or clean undergarments. As he grew, he turned more into a ragamuffin. His hair got longer, his eyes grew darker, he took on a starving look that should never be seen on a child.

Seven years old. Who knew that he'd only have ten years to go?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

On his eighth birthday, Nico sat in the attic with his knees brought to his chest. A pile of hair was around him, him having finally cut it off with a knife he had gotten out of the kitchen. Yet with the knife, he had also cut himself on accident. He bled rust red, bled over the wooden floorboards. He cried for hours, but the pain never went away.

"Happy birthday to me..." Nico kept his bleeding hand close to himself. "Happy birthday to me..."

No one sang with him, nobody sang to him. Not even the shadows called his name. How long had it been since anyone said his name? Even his father didn't seem to remember it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Nine years old. Barely having grown, barely having eaten. As he wandered around the third floor and the attic, he felt pieces of himself dying. How could anyone survive being so lonely? Dolls didn't talk back, nor did the stars when he spoke to the night sky.

He missed his momma, missed his sister, but he knew they weren't coming back. They couldn't, not in this life. His time with them was up.

Nine years old, mature beyond his years. What had happened to the once happy child? Why couldn't he smile or laugh anymore?

Nine years old. Already halfway through life.


	6. Chapter 6

Nico laid on his back in the dusty attic, his hair spread out around him like a dark halo, as if he was the fallen angel everyone said he was. He stared up at those support beams, stared up at the wood that he would one day die from. Why did it look so inviting?

Twelve years old. Without him knowing, he only had five years to go. Five more years of life... If he would have known, he would have thought that was too long. Could he even make it those five years? At twelve years old, he already longed for death. It was an escape from a life not worth living.

Or so he thought, anyway.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Fourteen years old. Skinny, short, a dirty piece of work. His only entertainment was to kill the mice that roamed the house, to catch them in less time than the last. It was a game, he told himself. It was just a game. He wasn't evil.

His skin remained coated with dirt, his eyes remained dark and dreary. Blood stuck the strands of hair together that fell into his face, and dry blood covered the back of his neck. Beatings didn't hurt anymore, nor did the painful feeling in his empty stomach. The only thing that stung was Hades' words.

Maria was happy, he promised himself. Maria and Bianca were happy. He shouldn't be sad about that.

They were happy, even though he wasn't. They were in Heaven. That seemed like a really cool place, the way the paster described it. Would he ever get there?

The pastor said Heaven was for good people. He wasn't good, was he? He couldn't give money to poor people. He couldn't go out and be nice. He killed mice. That was bad, wasn't it?

Hades never bothered to tell him what a good father should have. He never bothered to explain that you didn't need to be perfect to get to Heaven. You just needed to love.

But what was love anymore?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Fifteen years old. So close to sixteen...so close to adulthood... Was he actually excited about something? Through the pain and the sickness, he couldn't ever be sure. Why couldn't he even eat the scraps he managed to sneak anymore? Why did his stomach hurt so bad?

Why could he see every single one of his ribs?

Bony wrists, bony shoulders, a collarbone sticking out of a shirt. As he got older, he became more exhausted. Maybe it was the lack of food, maybe it was the depression. Either way, he couldn't move much anymore.

He laid in the attic as he had growing up. He stared up at the support beam, wondering if it could hold a body. A body as light as him.


	7. Chapter 7

Sixteen years old. Nico spent his birthday bleeding out in his bathtub. Hopefully the cuts wouldn't heal, hopefully, they wouldn't heal...

A bloody birthday, a bloody reminder. Yet not a death sentence.

Maybe next year.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Seventeen years old... It was in the dead of night, it was the minute he turned seventeen, it was exactly midnight. As the clocks rang out through the house, he kicked that chair out from underneath him.

As the darkness swarmed around him, as he finally experienced dying, all he could think about was how the beam had actually held him. Maybe he was light enough, after all. Maybe something good finally came out of not eating. Maybe it was fate.

He thought he was supposed to die that day. He thought he was doing the world a favor. But as he soon learned, it was just the opposite.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Nico finally opened his eyes from the darkness that had consumed in. He could see his body, hanging above him, as pale as ever. He couldn't feel any pain, didn't feel hungry, didn't feel scared. As he laid on that attic floor, he finally felt at peace.

For the time being, at least.

"I actually did it..." Nico felt himself smile for the first time in years. "I'm free...I'm free!"

He ran downstairs as fast as he could, making no noise in the creaky house. When he got to the front door, he went to run out of the house without a glance back. But before he could step outside, an invisible barrier seemed to stop him. No matter how hard he tried, no matter how much energy he put into it, he couldn't leave the house.

Couldn't leave...

"No!" Nico fought harder, fought as hard as he possibly could. "Let me out! Let me go! Please!"

Silent screams that went unheard. Nothing stirred, nothing registered that he was there. Deep down inside, Nico didn't even know if he was real. Not anymore.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was the day after he had died when he realized that he had made a mistake, that he realized that he should have kept living. In the early hours of the morning, his father's friend came over. He brought his son, a boy that Nico was instantly attracted to. William Solace, his name was. Will... Suddenly, Nico had a crush. A crush that might have been possible if he was still alive.

He stalked Will everytime he entered the house. When their fathers were talking, when he was alone, when he wandered the hallways upstairs. He watched him break down, watched him admit to himself that he was gay. Nico wanted to comfort him, wanted to scream "me too!", but couldn't be noticed by Will no matter how hard he tried.

Maybe if he had just stayed alive...

Why were there so many maybes? Maybe he should have thought a little harder before making that decision, maybe he should have tried harder. Maybe he could have snuck out. Maybe he could have lived. Maybe he could have ended up with Will Solace.

But he had spoiled that the moment he decided to die.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A couple years after he died, Nico could move things. He drove his father crazy but soon got sick of it. His father was horrible. Every minute of every day. Never did he get better. It was in anger that Nico snapped, in anger that he picked that knife up and stabbed it through his father's chest. The poor man didn't see it coming, nor did he live long enough to figure out what happened. He died in that kitchen, his blood seeping into everything around him. And for the first time, Nico was truly alone. No one left in the house, no one to bother or talk to.

He was all alone.


End file.
